He had been in Europe when he received the call. He raced across the Parisian countryside, a blur too fast for the naked eye to see. Less than a minute later he was streaking over the Atlantic. The sudden change did not bother him at all; he moved so fast his feet didn’t have enough time to break the surface tension of the water. He would barely have time to taste the salt in the air before he reached the east coast of the United States.

He saw a great storm on the horizon, a black churning thing raging in the middle of the ocean. Within the space of seconds he would be dashing through it. This was not a problem for a man fast enough to dance around lighting bolts, but he saw no reason to risk it. Not today. Not with what was waiting for him at the end of his journey. With a slight lean of his body he zoomed hundreds of miles around the storm.

Pietro Maximoff, the mutant known the world over as Quicksilver, made landfall in North Carolina. He crossed most of the state in the blink of an eye, expertly navigating both people and terrain. Few realized that something had even passed by them, and nobody knew exactly what it had been.

The world stood still for Pietro. It always seemed to, but here, in his own personal vaccuum of speed, was the only place that he truly felt comfortable. Felt himself. He left everything behind, including sound, and experienced a runner’s high unlike any on the planet could feel. Normally he revelled in it. Today, however, he was racing towards something uncertain. And that worried him.

He worked his way across the countryside, replaying the call in his head. He had not spoken to his ex wife Crystal since Scott Summers had prevented Black Bolt from detonating the terrigen bomb. It had been a dark time for Crystal and her cousins. He supposed he should have reached out to her, if only for their daughter’s sake, but she knew the last person she would want to hear from was him. Which made the call, and it’s vague summons, all the more puzzling.

The distance meant nothing to him. He lived in the space between seconds, and each breath meant dozens of miles had passed beneath his feet. He reached the Grand Canyon in minutes. Ostensibly a breathtaking sight, but a man who used the entire planet like a treadmill was hard to impress.

Despite traversing nearly half the globe on foot, his breathing was easy. Or it would have been had he not been so agitated. They were late. Everyone, everywhere, was always late. Making him wait. Forcing him to stoop to their level. It wasn’t his fault they moved like lead golems traversing molasses. He scowled, an expression never far from his face. He tried to force himself calm. For once, this wasn’t about him.

After a few seconds (an eternity to him), the air crackled with a familiar blue energy, and suddenly they were there. Crystal, their daughter Luna, and the Inhuman’s teleporting dog.

Lockjaw growled softly at Quicksilver, never happy to see him. He, in turn, sneered at the oversized mutt, but quickly turned to his daughter.

“Hi, dad,” she said, her voice unusually small.

“Luna, my love.” Before the words had made it to their ears he was kneeling at her side, hugging her. She did not return the hug, but she did not resist it, either. He would take it.

“I’m…” For once, Quicksilver was out of words, unsure where to start. “It’s good to see you,” he finally said. “Both of you.” He stood and looked at his former wife.

“I called you here because you deserve to know,” Crystal said, her tone businesslike.

“Know what?” he snapped.

A look of annoyance passed over her face. She always hated how he could never let anyone finish their thought before butting in.

“Luna is leaving for a while.”

With effort he managed to restrain himself from immediately asking questions.

“There are...there are things happening with us, Pietro. Things I don’t agree with. Mistakes being made. I can’t stop them, and I’m afraid they might have disastrous consequences. I must stand by my king, and my family, but I won’t endanger my daughter.”

He raised an eyebrow. What had that pompous king done now? He heard a low rumble from above and cast a glance upward. Three ships were descending, having just shut down their stealth fields. The two flanking ships belonged to SWORD and were clearly escorting the ship in the middle, which was...Kree?

“What’s going on?” Pietro asked.

Crystal wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t think it’s safe for her to be on this planet. Ronan and I never did get married, but I know he would protect Luna like his own.”

“Ronan the Accuser? You’d dump out daughter on that zealot’s lap?!”

“That zealot has seen your daughter more in the last few years than you have, and he doesn’t even live in this galaxy.”

Landing gear extended from the bottom of the ships and they delicately made contact with the dry Arizonan dirt. The SWORD ships opened up first, and the green haired leader of SWORD, Abigail Brand, stepped up with a few of her agents. The Kree ship opened, and the unmistakable profile of Ronan the Accuser descended.

Ronan stood at the foot of his ship, his expression as grim and determined as it ever was. He held his silence, letting Crystal finish with Quicksilver before approaching. Pietro ignored them both.

“Please don’t turn this into a scene,” Crystal pleaded. “It’s already done. I only wanted you here to give you a chance to say goodbye. She deserves that much, if not you.”

His hands balled into fists. How dare she do this to him?! He resisted the urge to lash out.

“Are you ok with this, Luna?” he asked, trying to soften his tone as much as he could.

She nodded. “I don’t mind Ronan. Everybody thinks he’s scarier than he really is.” She motioned for him to come in close and he obliged. She whispered in his ear, “I think his hammer is compensating for something.”

He laughed out loud, making sure to look directly at the Kree as he did so. His daughter was the most empathetic person he’d ever met, always knowing exactly what to say to diffuse a situation or to console someone, even if she was masking her own pain or insecurity. She was wonderful. A miracle. She deserved better than him. He and Crystal would talk later. Right now he had to attempt to not disappoint his daughter. Again.

He leaned back and put his hands on her shoulders, taking her measure. She was brave, and strong. She was her mother’s daughter.

“I...I know haven’t been the best father. Or even a good one. But I love you, Luna. No amount of planets between us will change that. And no distance will keep me from you if you need me. I will run on the stars themselves if I have to.”

She smiled. It was a fragile, beautiful thing; porcelain in the desert. He pulled her in close and hugged her again. This time, she hugged him back. He cast a glance up at her mother that told her in no uncertain terms that they were not done talking about this. He would find what Boltagon had done that had scared his ex-wife so much. And, if need be, he would stop him.